m wood pen

ILLUSTRATION + DESIGN

October O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. …

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It can never come too soon for me.  The leaves falling to crisp footsteps and the blue icy frosting that sweeps across my pasture signal the trumpet call. Stacking firewood beside the wood-burning stove, retrieving the woolen scarves lovingly packed home from Scotland, reversing the order of stacked shoes to bring the Wellies and LLBean boots up …

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